


In the Night, I Come to You

by RLBB



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 04:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13967343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RLBB/pseuds/RLBB
Summary: The four times Clarke came and slept beside Bellamy and the one time he sought her out.





	In the Night, I Come to You

**Author's Note:**

> Just playing around and exorcising the Bellarke demons that haunt me.

Clarke lay on the couch staring up at the ceiling, fixating on the yellow stripes dancing across, signaling the passing of cars on the street below. It had been an hour since she and Octavia had stumbled in the door of the Blake residence, Octavia because she was sufficiently drunk, and Clarke because she was single-handedly supporting the weight of her friend while trying to find her keys. Clarke had long since put her friend to bed, forcing her to drink a bottle of water in an attempt to ward off the impending morning hangover. Now, Octavia was peacefully snoring in the next room. Clarke on the other hand couldn’t stop her thoughts from churning.

It had been a while since she had a chance to let loose, and she too had been enjoying their evening bar hopping with friends. That is until she saw her ex-boyfriend, Finn. Although Clarke had been in some tough relationships before and after him, this one still stung worse in comparison. With Finn there was no steady decline into frustration and eventual separation. It wasn’t even a big earth-shattering blowout like it had been with her girlfriend Lexa. Instead it had snuck up on Clarke, silently, while she was head over heels for him. And it came in the form of another woman, or The Woman she supposed. Clarke had been the “other” she later found out.

She blew out a breath, turning over, attempting to get comfortable on the worn couch, fluffing the cushion like it might make some difference. The truth was it wasn’t the couch that was the problem and she knew it. She had spent many blissful nights in this exact place, waking to the smell of pancakes or Octavia jumping on her eagerly. Tonight though, the couch seemed too small. Too lonely. Seeing Finn had brought back a rush of emotions she did not want to revisit, but felt all the same. The kind that seem to float to the surface when you’re that perfect mix of buzzed and vulnerable. She supposed she could go to Octavia, knowing full well her best friend would let her in the bed without hesitation. But Octavia wasn’t exactly a great sleep companion. She tended to adopt several different positions over the night, spanning herself across the bed and stealing the covers, she had been known to even thrash and catch someone’s face with her elbow on occasion. It was unlikely she would get any more rest next to her. Plus her friend didn’t exactly seem to be in best state of mind to carry on a conversation on past loves. She pulled the blanket around her tighter, attempting to stifle the growing chill she felt in her chest. It was no use. Her mind had decided that tonight was the night to dredge up all those repressed emotions. The feelings of sadness, betrayal, and that nagging feeling that no one would ever love her. _Truly_ love her. She couldn’t stand it.

Clarke sat up, pushing her feet off the couch and onto the cold hardwood floor. She walked into the bathroom, splashing warm water on her face as she tried to calculate whether she had enough cash to pay for a cab ride home. Or if she would even be able to find a cab at this hour. Shutting off the light and sighing she stepped out of the bathroom and stared across the hall. It was the door to Bellamy’s room. She wasn’t sure the elder Blake was home, but on the days he worked he usually stumbled home and into bed without doing much else. So if he was, their rather loud entrance wouldn’t have roused him. Glancing at the front door she noted his worn black boots next to the mat, confirming he was in for the night. She stepped towards his door, then hesitated.

She and Bellamy weren’t exactly best friends. Years of friendship with Octavia and integrating herself in their home had softened the once bitter relationship between them. They still fought enthusiastically and often, but it didn’t have the same bite. And they actually enjoyed one another’s company now. But Bellamy was still largely a mystery to her. There was a lot going on behind those deep brown eyes that she had yet to really unlock. Sometimes it felt like she might be getting a little closer, but those moments were few and far between. Bellamy wasn't one to let others in very often. In fact, he usually adopted the opposite role, one of guardian or protector. Clarke was pretty sure it had a lot more to do with the circumstances Bellamy was forced into when he was younger and less to do with who he actually was as a person. But she hadn't yet made her way far enough beyond his defenses to find out.

Now, standing in front of his door, she found herself seeking out that protective presence. The thought of rolling into bed beside his solid, warm body was becoming increasingly attractive with each passing second she remained in the drafty hallway. The appeal might also have something to do with the fuzziness that was still in the back of her brain, lowering her inhibitions and reminding her of the many drinks she too had consumed over the course of the night.

Clarke took a definitive step forward, curling her hand over the cool metal of the doorknob. She slowly turned it and tiptoed into the room, carefully shutting the door behind her. The street lamp outside filtered in some light through the blinds, falling on Bellamy’s sleeping form. He lay on his side, one arm tucked under his head, chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm. She leaned against the door for a moment taking it in. She wanted desperately to feel that same peace. Slowly she shuffled towards the bed, careful not to make too much noise as she pulled up one side of the comforter and slipped under it. She kept silent for a few beats, holding her breath in case she had woken him. She didn’t exactly have a great explanation for this, let alone a sane one. After a minute with no movement on Bellamy's part, Clarke began to relax.

Turning towards him she studied his face, half illuminated in a faint orange glow. He was so handsome, but in an unconventional way. Clarke hadn’t been able to resist sketching him on occasion, of course not to his knowledge lest he make something more of it than it was. She just liked his features; his strong jaw, the freckles that peppered his cheeks, the messy hair that curled around his ears. They were a disarming combination.

“Clarke?” Bellamy whispered sleepily. Clarke stilled. In her inspection she had somehow shifted closer to him, her nose just a few short inches from his, her fingertips brushing the fabric of the t-shirt against his chest. His eyes blinked at her, foggy in his dreamy haze. Before she could say anything, his eyes had already drooped closed once more and he looked, quite frankly, adorable. She smiled softly, the initial fear of having been discovered subsiding. 

“Go back to sleep Bellamy” she whispered, gently moving her fingers in a circular motion against his chest.

“Okay” he mumbled back, shifting a little closer to her. His body radiated warmth in waves and Clarke couldn't help but snuggle closer, pressing herself up against him. In a matter of minutes she too was fast asleep.

The next morning Bellamy awoke with a start, his alarm beeped shrilly on the table next to him. Blearily he reached over, shutting it off and turning over onto his back. He lay still for a few moments running through a list of what he had to do for the day. Showering was currently in the number one spot. But he made no effort to get up, sleep tugging at his tired eyes. He rolled over on his side, away from the sun shining through the widow. He started to burrow his face into the sheets under him, convincing himself that he deserved an extra ten minutes when suddenly his eyes snapped open. He faintly smelled jasmine, the signature scent of-

“Clarke” he said aloud.

Opening his eyes, Bellamy stared at the space next to him on the bed. He had a faint memory that she had been laying here next to him just last night. He could almost feel the warmth of her body against his and an accompanying feeling of profound contentment. But the space on the bed next to him showed no indication another person had been there. He ran his hands over the sheets, the comforter looked undisturbed, pulled up near the pillow. Turning over on his back he closed his eyes once again. He couldn’t shake the feeling of her next to him. But she hadn’t been next to him, right? So this feeling was…what exactly, a dream?

“Get it together Bellamy” he said under his breath, before propelling himself up towards the bathroom, no longer able to sleep.


End file.
